Last to Die
by Ironhide1706
Summary: A short story about a fiery end to a war-loving Autobot.


Last to Die

The putrid stench of burnt metal; the deafening laser-fire; the searing heat of an explosion; the blinding black haze; together they made him feel alive. War wasn't some terrible occasion to him, it was _excitement_. The beating of his spark shook his chest like the tremor from a bomb. The pistons in his limbs groaned and his crimson armour carried more dents than flat surfaces. He didn't care, though. All that mattered was the glorious battle and the unrivalled, exuberant sensation of victory.

Red Alert was exactly where he wanted to be: in the centre of the action. As he weaved through jagged rubble and pools of molten metal, he couldn't stop himself from smiling. Though the missile launcher on his shoulder weighed him down, the joy of being in the thick of it all drove Red Alert to move faster than possible. Using the speed, he somehow avoided the steady stream of radiant laser bolts that formed a grid across the battlefield. As the grid slowly intensified, spreading multi-coloured light across the dingy ruins, he knew he would have to find cover soon. Somewhat reluctantly, Red Alert slid into a stop and ducked behind a smoking piece of craggy steel.

Red Alert's communications link crackled and an urgent voice came through, "Red, you have a squadron approaching your one-o'clock. Reinforcements are on the way."

"Don't waste the manpower, Sentinel, they won't be needed!" Red Alert replied.

Sentinel tried to retort, but Red Alert muted the link and took a tentative peek over his steely cover. Through the grimy air ahead, he spotted a tightly-packed group of his robotic foes: the Decepticons. Each of them held a large, intimidating assault rifle. Red Alert should have been dubious, given the feeble size of his own weapon in comparison to theirs. Instead, he was thrilled; it had been far too long since the last time he'd taken on a squadron by his lonesome.

One of the Decepticons noticed Red Alert just as he crouched beneath his shelter. The Decepticon called out and opened fire on the steel. The metal absorbed his lasers, but it also started to glow bright orange. The extraordinary heat of the Decepticon's bolts became far too much for the steel to handle. Red Alert didn't panic, however. He simply gripped his own rifle even tighter and prepared to engage his enemy.

As his cover started to melt, Red Alert let out a battle cry and somersaulted over it. The Decepticon stopped for a moment, surprised; it was all Red Alert needed. A flex of his finger later and the Decepticon fell to the ground, a gaping hole in his chest. His fellows retaliated with their own weapons, but the thrill of the moment motivated Red Alert's limbs to once again act with exceptional alacrity. In the middle of a commando roll, Red Alert fired five lasers seemingly at random. When he looked up from his stunt, the rest of the Decepticons were in the same position as the first.

An overcoming feeling of pride welled up in Red Alert. Every victory, no matter the size and consequence, sent his self-esteem through the roof. He stood up slowly, relishing the moment with its blaring noise, sweltering warmth and odorous burns. The combination of all the molten metal across the plains had superheated the ground. Red Alert felt his feet sting. He took a few steps forward; it felt like walking on wet sand.

He grinned and muttered, "Awesome."

A soft but clear sound reached Red Alert's audio sensors amidst the roaring of the guns. He regarded the sky in search of the source. The smoke had masked the laser-fire, replacing it with a reddish-grey blear. The sound echoed around him until it graduated from a hum to a raucous boom. A thundering shockwave collided with Red Alert's back, tackling him to the spongy terrain. Pieces of the ground rained onto him; a particularly large chunk landed on his left hand, crushing it. Red Alert's agonised screams were joined by a chorus of others from around the war-zone. They abruptly stopped, and a jarring silence took their place.

Red Alert twisted his head to look at his hand. Sparks flew from the severed wires, and a luminescent blue liquid leaked out from under the debris. Red Alert pulled violently, but found himself pinned by the metal. He knew the Decepticons would be upon him at any moment, at which point he would be helpless. A sense of desperation overwhelmed everything else. As he weighed his options, a grim shadow fell over his face. Gently, hesitantly, Red Alert lifted his remaining hand. The fist retracted into his forearm and a blade extended. He closed his optics, then brought the blade down on his left wrist. He shrieked in discomfort.

Using his right hand, which had returned, Red Alert covered the wound and climbed to his feet. He surveyed the results of the bomb, for it couldn't have been anything else. The same blue liquid that stained his arm dripped off every elevated surface. Corpses lay splayed out across the ruins. Their optics were blank and their mouths loosely agape. In less than a minute, lonely hopelessness had replaced Red Alert's prideful victory.

The scent of burning and smoke, the tumultuous melody of lasers, and the scalding heat suddenly seemed far less exciting; more unpleasant, irritating and distressing. An ominous grimace replaced Red Alert's cheerful grin. The once bright light of his optics dimmed. Knowing everyone around him had fallen, Red Alert turned and limped, slowly, gingerly, back to where he knew a medic would be waiting.


End file.
